


too close for comfort (he's much too close for comfort now)

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Daisy And Her Huge Crush On Coulson, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fantasizing, First Time, Future Fic, Hotel Sex, Masturbation, POV Skye | Daisy Johnson, Skye | Daisy Johnson's Superpowers, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-31
Updated: 2015-12-31
Packaged: 2018-05-10 17:40:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5595073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While she and Coulson share a hotel room Daisy's powers turn her into an accidental voyeur.</p>
            </blockquote>





	too close for comfort (he's much too close for comfort now)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hamsterfactor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hamsterfactor/gifts).



She has felt the tension build up in him and to be honest, she shares that tension herself.

Four days on end on the road together, without a break (among two months with very few breaks, with more road than not) and Daisy can tell he’s becoming frustrated by… the lack of privacy, to put it delicately. 

And thanks to her abilities it’s not like she can simply ignore it.

It started the morning her mother taught her how to tune in with the mountain. After being able to Daisy found it easy to gradually connect with the world - objects, people, their emotions - but she couldn’t turn the onslaught on her senses _off_ that easily. While she was still learning it wasn’t so bad, there was no precision, just a buzzing around her not unlike what she felt under her skin. Then came being able to tell people apart by the vibrations they gave off, being able to tell who had just walked into a room without even seeing or hearing them. It had its advantages, even on the field. Then came the moment when she was able to tell people’s moods from the way their bodies vibrated. It took Daisy a bit to recognize that was what it was happening - while she developed her powers she simply assumed it was her own feelings she was reading, and couldn’t tell herself apart from other people in that sense. 

Then came the moment when she started being able to tell when people were lying, from their vibrations. And that power freaked her out a bit and she spent a long time fighting against it.

Daisy has never really told anyone just how good she’s become at reading people’s vibrations. So precise it has started to bother her so she’s began to turn it off if she can. It feels too much like invading someone’s privacy. But it takes effort, shutting it down. It’ll probably get easier as she trains to perfect it, but right now shielding herself from the world’s vibrations spends a lot of energy, and sometimes she just doesn’t have the luxury.

When they check into their room Daisy is beyond that line of exhausted and has no other choice but the let the whole world in, the buzzing of everybody around her loud and clear.

“This has to be the smallest hotel room yet,” she comments, looking around and dropping her bag on the twin bed.

Coulson gives him an apologetic smile through his exhaustion (she appreciates the effort anyway). They have been in pretty sad joints in the last couple of months, but this one seems particularly uncomfortable.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he says.

“I’ll do that tomorrow,” Daisy tells him, sitting down on the bed. “I’m just going to sleep into my pajamas and drop dead immediately.”

“Okay. I’ll try not to wake you when I get out,” he says, considerate roommate that he is (Daisy has no complaints in that sense) and disappears into the bathroom with his bag.

At first she notices a feeling of relief coming from Coulson right after he closes the door. She doesn’t make anything of it - they have spent every minute of today together, just like the day before, and everybody welcomes a moment to themselves, no matter how well they have been getting on lately. Being on the road helps, Daisy thinks, assisting Inhumans and making a real difference, no schemings or politics like they have to deal with back at the base. Things are great between them so she doesn’t really mind if Coulson needs half an hour in which he can be alone.

Daisy herself starts undressing without a care, for once. They have these little concessions to respect each other’s boundaries. It feels refreshing to be able not to mind for a moment.

They have been discovering things about each other through the close proximity. Coulson knows she’s messy now. And she knows he doesn’t like wearing his prosthetic hand when he is alone (or alone-ish, in this case, he had to include Daisy in this). She wonders if he is doing that right now, taking the hand off before getting into the shower. Probably not, the prosthetic is perfectly water resistant and it’s easier showering with both hands.

Daisy hears the water start running. She wasn’t joking about how tiny the room is. She practically can hear the guy move in there, walls paper thin.

She lies on her back, under the covers, exhausted. She’s about to doze off for a moment, lulled by that first sensation of the clean, fresh covers against her skin after a day of driving there and here and talking to strangers. Then she notices a gentle wave of good vibrations (she has made the joke many times in her head) that’s not coming from within. Coulson must be enjoying his shower, Daisy thinks and smiles. He deserves to clean off the dirt of the day too, but the vibrations are so clear (she’s too tired to put up the usual defenses) that she can almost feel the hot water on her skin.

It’s nice and she sinks further into the mattress, closing her eyes again and resting her hand over her stomach.

Then the vibrations from the bathroom change into something unmistakable.

Coulson must be _really_ enjoying his shower, Daisy thinks, embarrassed about picking up such a thing. 

The thing about spending every waking minute physically next to someone is that you get very precise about this.

She tries to shut it down immediately, cutting her sensitive Inhuman perception of what’s happening on the other side of the door. But it’s hard (no pun intended). She’s half asleep and she didn’t even get to replenish her energy after using her powers. And it does feel good, she has to admit that. So she lets it go one - promising she’ll only enjoy it for a moment, this _feeling good_ , even if she knows she’s borrowing the sensation from Coulson, and without his permission.

A vivid image show up in her mind and there’s no telling if it’s her supernatural powers or her imagination: Coulson soaping his body meticulously while he enjoys the sensation of touching his body under warm water. She thinks about Coulson’s hands - she has often seen them effective holding a gun, and she has seen them twisted in hatred of some injustice, and she has felt them tender when he comforted her. She knows his hands, even the one under the glove, with its movements so different, but only now Daisy is thinking about those hands touching sensually, being playful… in her half-unconscious state the logical conclusion of that thought is for Daisy to wonder how those hands would feel on her.

She doesn’t want to notice that she’s doing it but she has begun skimming her fingers across her stomach, under her top, mimicking the movements she imagines Coulson is performing in the shower. It’s difficult, once she’s started letting her body feel it, not to be affected by the feeling of _increasing_ pleasure coming in waves, and from so near. Specially when she already feels so close to the person emitting them.

Feeling the vibrations of Coulson’s arousal excites her. Her hand dropping from her belly, slipping discreetly under the waistband of her pants, her fingers starting to rub her clit lazily and slowly over the fabric of her underwear.

Okay, she has to admit she has been feeling the frustration as well. Spending basically every waking minute with someone else on the road doesn’t leave much time for, well, for this. Daisy has been needing it. A bit of a shameless excuse for what she’s doing, sure, but true nonetheless. She hasn’t got herself off since they last time they were on the Zephyr 1 and she slept in one of the bunks. She can’t quite remember when that was.

But it’s more than that, of course.

It’s the fact that she can feel Coulson doing the same mere feet away from her, under the hot flow of the shower. It’s the fact that it’s Coulson, of course, of all people.

Daisy imagines him taking his time, since he can, and since who knows when they’ll have the chance to be away from each other again. She can picture Coulson slowly brushing his thumb across his hipbone, sweetly delaying the moment when he finally touches his cock. There’s no mystery about that, Daisy thinks, sharing motel rooms for weeks, seeing each other in and out of the bathroom and in sleepwear with no room for modesty, she has come to know Coulson’s body pretty well, if only in a peripheral vision kind of way (and she guesses that same is true about her own body, and doesn’t know how to feel about that). He’s got nothing to be ashamed of. The little spikes in the vibrations make Daisy imagine he’s finally wrapping his fingers around his cock and beginning to stroke himself, slow and easy, while he gets harder and bigger. She bites her bottom lip, stopping the natural noise that comes with the image.

Daisy settles in bed, more comfortable but uneasy about thinking these thoughts about Coulson, feeling it’s a dangerous road to go down on.

But the thing is she never gets to feel this sensations from Coulson - pleasure and just rest. He’s always stressed, locked in his own head, troubled or sad. The sheer novelty of it (Phil enjoying himself, Phil experiencing _joy_ ) would be exciting enough.

The hot water falling on his shoulders must be so nice, too. They caught a bad fight a couple of days ago where Coulson got slightly roughed up and now Daisy wonders if the bruises are still there, on his upper arms. Hot water dripping down the curve of his cute butt - she can hardly believe she’s just referred to the Director of SHIELD’s ass in such an inappropriate, insubordinate, accurate way.

She thinks about his scar, which she has never seen. She thought about it a lot after Coulson told her how he had come back to life, after she got shot. She imagined it differently each time. Terrifyingly painful still, large or small, always poignant. Now she’s imagining it and it arouses her. Which is probably messed up but she can help it.

Suddenly she fantasizes Coulson is thinking about her while he touches himself. She’s not sure when her feelings changed so much and though she doesn’t remember thinking something like this about her boss before she also has the peculiar feeling it’s not the first time. Not really. She always thought he was an attractive man, she remembers finding him strangely appealing for an older guy when they first met - but he soon became too much of a mentor, of a protector, even a hopeful father figure before Daisy met her own father. But it’s been a while since Coulson has been any of those things, maybe that’s why things have changed in her head and heart. Maybe it’s the fact that through all her romantic snafus (Miles, Ward, Lincoln) Coulson had remained the only person who could give her what Daisy needed. But now, apparently - her body betraying what her fear of losing him tries to hide - she needed something else from him all along.

She gives into the fantasy, imagining Coulson wordlessly whispering her name in the privacy the noise of water falling gives him. Maybe when he’s alone like this he still sometimes calls her _Skye_ , slipping again. The idea turns Daisy on so much she finally pushes her underwear aside, pressing two fingers inside, thinking about how it would feel to have Coulson’s cock instead.

Shit, she thinks. This is bad. This is not crossing a line, this is basically _destroying_ the line, blowing it up with freaking dynamite.

She feels guilty, of course, and not just because Coulson is her friend and her colleague and this is probably a violation of that and if he were to find out he might not want to talk to her ever again, she feels guilty on a deeper level, like always, like she did in those nights at the orphanage when she was convinced she was sinning against God himself and was condemning herself to Hell - not that the threat of eternal damnation could ever stop a teenage girl, but Daisy remembers the feeling long after she learned it was all bullshit to shame girls into fearing sex.

Daisy wonders if Coulson is feeling that sort of guilt right now, as he picks up the rhythm chasing a much needed orgasm. Not guilty about the thing itself, but about doing it when she’s in the next room. Knowing Coulson, yeah, she bets he feels shitty about it, and she wonders just how at the end of his rope he was tonight. The idea of a sexually frustrated Phil Coulson hanging around her all this time is enough to send her over the edge. She comes before he does (she can tell) and she feels extremely embarrassed about the fact, even though she knows he will never find out.

 

+

 

“I thought you’d be asleep by now,” Coulson says when he comes out of the bathroom, pajama and bathrobe and damp hair, flushed cheeks but otherwise an expression of total innocence. 

It must have worked, because his vibrations are completely relaxed now. Daisy bites the inside of her cheek guiltily. She shakes her head.

“You should try to get some rest,” he tells her gently. “It was a rough day for you.”

A rough day among either rough or tedious days, but someone has to do the job, someone has to keep these people safe. Coulson shouldn’t even be here at all, they are not their people. He’s either doing it for her, or because he’s an annoyingly good guy. Either way Daisy has to be honest with with.

“Coulson?” she calls, while he’s still standing in the middle of the room, leaving the robe and his bag of toiletries on a chair.

“Yes?”

“I could feel you,” Daisy says, trying to convey what she means by tone alone.

He frowns, not picking it up. “What?”

“When you were in the shower, I felt it,” she tells him and watches realization wash over his face. He closes down and the vibrations of his whole body become a panicked inert silence.

“Your powers…” he mutters, like he had forgotten for a moment, closing his eyes for a second to process what has happened.

“I’m so sorry,” she says. Don’t hate me, she thinks. They are in such a good place as friends right now, she doesn’t want to ruin that.

Coulson doesn’t seem angry. More like confused.

“ _You_ ’re apologizing?”

Coulson looks _relieved_. What did he imagine? That he’d be angry at him? Or grossed out?

“You don’t get it,” she says. “It was like I was spying on you.”

Coulson sits on her bed. She gets self-conscious and wraps the covers around her body tighter, in case he can tell.

“You told me it still tires you out, blocking people out, specially when you’re already worn out,” Coulson says. She hasn’t told anyone how good and precise her powers have gotten, but she’s come very close to, with Coulson.

“Yeah but…” she looks down, ghost-touching Coulson’s wrist with her fingers. Touching the hand she had imagined earlier touching Coulson’s body, touching the hand she had wanted touching her. “This time I didn’t want to block it out.”

Coulson half-opens his mouth in a questioning way, but Daisy touches her own mouth to it before he can utter the question. He gives easily into the kiss, softly, and that relaxes Daisy as well, the idea that he might find her attractive too.

“I imagined… I liked the idea that you might have been thinking about me, while you were-”

He doesn’t let her finish, however that sentence was going to finish, and Daisy is glad for that, preferring the way Coulson is kissing her right now - like he has been wanting to and holding back for weeks - so much more.

He breaks it immediately, like it’s too much all of the sudden.

“You don’t mind?” Daisy asks, not exactly clear on which part of it she’s asking about.

Coulson shakes his head. He shifts on the bed to get closer to her Now Daisy can smell the fresh shower on his skin, the distinctive scent of cheap hotel soap because he somehow finished the one he always takes with him on trips ( _somehow_ involves Daisy borrowing it a couple of times when she lost her own bottle and in retrospect she finds it sexy, him sharing shower gel and smelling like one another for a bit; of course in retrospect she’s beginning to find all of their interactions sexy).

She kisses him again, experimentally, with her mouth closed again, almost chaste compared to Coulson’s passionate gesture. She just wants to get the feeling of him.

He smiles, running his hand up and down Daisy’s arm. She smiles back, drunk with unusual delight. Daisy Johnson and happiness is not that usual a combination, either. Maybe they are fated, her and Coulson, because they’re not happy with anyone else. This only happens when they’re together.

“I was.”

“What?”

“Before, in the shower. I was thinking about you,” he tells her. “I’m sorry, Daisy.”

She cups his face in her hand.

“It’s okay,” she says. “We’ve been on the road together for too long. Living in such close quarters, it’s just - it’s natural.”

“The fact that I’m deeply in love with you didn’t help either,” he says, almost casually, kissing her again.

Daisy feels warmth spread all over her. 

“Thank god, “ she says, pressing her mouth against him once more.

Any sort of hesitation ends right there. They know what they feel for each other. They kiss each other greedily now, tongue against tongue fighting for dominance, rushing to see who can raise the best noises out of each other. Daisy thinks she wins when she touches the tip of her tongue to the roof of Coulson’s mouth while her hand wraps around his knee and he makes this embarrassing alien sound between a whimper and a snort. Not a sound she could have imagined him making, not even with all that imagination of hers that have got them both in this wonderful trouble.

She touches her index to Coulson’s mouth while she kisses him, wanting to check something.

“Can you say my name?” she asks him between kisses.

“Daisy?” She nods against his mouth. “Daisy, Daisy, Daisy,” he chants, getting the idea.

She feels her whole body clench at the sound of his voice. Because apparently jerking off to fantasies of her middle-aged boss was not enough for her - she wants the real thing, _now_.

She works her hand under his pajama bottoms and boxers, Coulson wincing when he feels the touch on his sensitive flesh.

“Daisy, I’ve just… I’m not sure I can…”

“We’ll take it slow,” she says, wrapping her fingers around his resting cock. “And I’ll help you with it.”

Coulson makes a pleased, pathetic sound against her kiss. He takes a while to get into the rhythm of her strokes but that’s okay with Daisy - it gives her time to explore his mouth and swallow the little, increasingly enthusiastic noises at the back of his throat.

“I’m not hurting you, am I?” she asks.

He shakes his head.

“No, no, you’re very… nice.”

Daisy grins. She doesn’t think a guy has ever call her _nice_ before.

He obviously wants to return the favor, pulling her pajama pants down her hips with difficulty while he keeps kissing her. Daisy takes care of her underwear with her free hand. Coulson finally breaks the kiss to take a good, shameless look at her. 

“You’re so wet oh god,” he whimpers when he starts stroking her.

“I have a confession to make,” she says, touching her lips to his ear, between seductive and fearful, because she is aware she crossed another line there. “While you were in the shower and I could feel what you were doing...I… got a bit of fun… myself.”

Coulson groans. She hopes it’s the good kind of groan. So far she only has her imagination to compare.

“Show me,” he says, between pleading and strangely _authoritative_. Daisy gets a chill out of it.

She pulls back and settles against the headboard of the bed, working on pulling her pajama pants off while she doesn’t break eye contact with Coulson. He has replaced her hand with his own, pushing his boxers just down his hips and stroking himself slowly, waiting for her to start.

It feels so different, getting herself off in front of someone (in front of someone she loves, her smitten mind adds), none of that slightly secretive feeling that made her remember the nun’s warnings about self-pleasure. She feels weirdly unselfconscious under Coulson’s gaze. She feels sexy.

“Come closer,” he asks, maneuvering himself out of his bottoms.

Daisy wouldn’t normally like it when people (specially guys) are bossy in bed, but hearing it from someone she knows would never take advantage of it (even if he’s her literal boss - it’s complicated between them, it’s not like Coulson has ever been able to actually boss her around in any other context) gives her a thrill, like she can let go and give in while feeling safe. She crawls down the bed, Coulson embracing her with one hand, his gloved fingers caressing her shoulders carefully (Daisy imagines he’s worried she might be put off by his prosthetic, which is a weirdly sad thought against the happy noises he is making) as he starts kissing her neck.

She tries to embrace him back as best as she can with one hand, settling between his legs and now they are so close that Coulson’s knuckles brush the inside of her thigh every time he strokes himself. For some reason that’s unbearably hot to her. She’s almost flailing, dropping her hand from his back, grabbing his ass to pull him closer, digging her fingernails into the flesh, she smiles - _cute butt_.

“What?” Coulson asks, noticing her expression.

“I’ll tell you someday,” she replies, mysterious, and Coulson pushes his delighted frustration onto a deep, wet kiss.

Enough solo action, Daisy thinks, pushing Coulson’s hand away and wrapping her fingers around his cock again. She has never done something like this, she’s improvising at this point. Rubbing herself against his shaft while she strokes the tip of his cock.

“Please, Daisy,” Coulson whimpers. “Please.”

She pushes him on his back, his head almost hanging off the edge of the bed. Coulson lets a very unattractive (but quite flattering) grunt when Daisy finally sinks down the length of him.

His hands go to her back, pulling her down until the angle is almost too sweet to bear, thrusting up quick and pulling out slow as Daisy holds on to his shoulders. She licks a strip of skin across Coulson’s neck.

“Damn, that feels so much better than my fingers,” she confesses to him, blushing all over because since when does she ever do dirty talk.

Coulson digs his fingers into her hips.

“What are you trying to do to me?” he asks helplessly. He laughs against her hair, loud.

Just the novelty of that - Phil Coulson and joy - is enough for Daisy. She comes before he does again, but this time she feels no embarrassment about it.

“I should have told you I could feel your vibrations like that sooner, I’m sorry,” she tells Coulson afterwards, as they try to settle on the small-ish bed together, her head resting on the crook of his shoulder (living in close quarters on the road, she knows it’s more comfortable for him to sleep on his back).

“Your powers are amazing,” Coulson says, catching his breath, as if the awe he feels for them trumps Daisy invading her privacy.

“You should have probably taken that kind of shower sooner, too,” she teases him.

Coulson chuckles against her shoulder. “Yeah. I guess I’ve wasted a lot of time.”

He’s completely sincere, and there’s regret in his voice.

Daisy twists her hand into his t-shirt, fighting the idea of all that wasted time. She is not one for regrets. She’s a fixer.”

“Tomorrow when I take my shower you should join me,” she tells Coulson. “I’ll be thinking about you anyway.”

 

+

 

As nice as the vibrations coming from Coulson when he was in the shower were they were nothing compared to this, to the shallow earthquakes between them as they share the bed.

Daisy would feel guilty again, but she’s about to fall asleep herself, so shielding is beyond her ability. Plus after all that had happened tonight she doesn’t think Coulson will mind. She’s gotten so good at it, she can feel every detail; the underlying slight discomfort because of the narrow bed, even while asleep, the hint of doubt and fear for the future because they have changed their dynamic so essentially tonight, but that’s way below, under a sea of vibrations that have the taste of joy and belonging and peace. She fights to stay awake a moment longer, wanting to keep on feeling it. Happiness. Daisy had never felt that vibe come off Coulson before. Or maybe she still isn’t in full control of her powers and it’s mistaking it for her own. Either way...


End file.
